


What if The Magnus Institute had an HR department

by Not_a_name



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: and hates Elias, but it's trying very, chronology who's her, it's trying okay, kind of crack but with Anger Issues, literally none of this probably fits in the canon timeline, no shipping so far, okay mildly, rated Teen for language and some minor violence, shenanigans ensue, the rest are OCs - Freeform, this is how i cope okay, will add tags as they happen, will add when other characters appear, wrote this practically on a dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27614855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_a_name/pseuds/Not_a_name
Summary: Welcome to the Magnus Institute where a bunch of tired people work around a bunch of spooky stuff and more often than not file complaints about it.Is there going to be violence? Likely.Is there going to be spooky happenings? Almost definitely!Is our HR lady with anger issues going to change the timeline in any way? Not a chance!an AU where everything is the same except from a perspective of a very tired HR worker backing the archives.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> The archives adore her   
> The HR fears her  
> Elias quivers before her
> 
> It is....   
> The HR lady!

If you asked around in the HR department who had the worst job of the lot, they would point you to a table in the corner of the room. To the eye of a third party it looked… rather lovely, actually. There was enough light falling down from the window to make the entire corner seem cleaner, the folders on the wall-shelf behind it were coded in rich, full colours, and there was even a few flowers, some dried, some very much alive, set almost randomly all over the place. 

The owner of said table was a lively person, who made sure her workplace looked the part, even going so far as to present a glass bowl of sweets to whomever may find themselves in enough of a bind to need to come for her help there. All in all it was a picture of a perfect workplace environment. 

But those who worked there knew the roses weren’t meant to be dried out. That the colourful binders sometimes bled. And that, most of the time, the sweets all ended up chomped by a single person. 

But that was all in that corner. Now she was in the break-room, where walls were solid, doors were grey with glass plates, and where the only cold meat was in a chicken sandwich. It was like a relief station for her. Everything was normal and that was good. 

She found herself saying that mantra more and more often lately. 

This is normal. 

This is normal. 

This is normal. 

Until it eventually wouldn’t be. 

But she was in the break room and that was fine. 

Her colleagues were chatting animatedly about a party that was about to happen the next evening. She smiled with them and made plans, willingly taking the short straw to be the designated sober person. They joked around, some flirting, some just taking a moment to get some steam out of the system. Everybody was running on the Thursday rush of knowing that tomorrow’s work would be calm and relaxed, and evening free to get absolutely shit-faced. 

She smiled into her juice. What a wonderful afternoon. 

This is normal, she sighed with contend. This is normal. 

And then it wasn’t. 

A chirping sound came from the office, specifically from the buzzer taped to her desk. The one that was meant to inform her of new workload arriving. Everybody froze, then, eyeing her warily. Of course everybody knew which department she was backing. Anybody who worked there for more than a month knew very well why she was the only one handling this specific department and no other. And those who didn’t, well, they would learn soon. 

She tried to ignore it. The chirping would eventually end, after all. She could always pretend she didn’t hear anything and then strategically push it off her desk and maybe only find it on Monday and-

The chirping came again, somehow louder. She clutched the glass firmly. Nope. She still couldn’t hear it. Maybe she finally went deaf from all the music- 

It came again and the glass broke. 

“WHAT?!” she yelled, slamming her hand down on the table, ignoring the shards cutting into her skin. “WHAT IS IT THIS TIME?!” 

The chirping came again and she stood up, her chair sliding good two metres backwards before falling over. Nobody said anything nor moved as she stomped to the door, slamming them shut behind her. A long string of curses still made it through, muffled by the walls as they were. The silence stayed a few moments after the furious sounds died out in the distance before they slowly continued their conversation where it ended. It wasn’t anything abnormal after all. 

She continued to swear until she reached that stupid, cursed desk in the corner. A new pile of paperwork lay on over her workspace, her laptop’s desperate whirring to stay alive audible from across the room. A figure was leaning over the wooden frame, pressing the button rhythmically with a grin that sent her fuming. 

“WHAT?!” she barked again as she stomped behind her desk. The man standing there paused with his hand very intentionally lingering on the button for a moment longer until she slapped his hand off of it. The man just chuckled and pretended to dust off his suit sleeves. Her eye twitched. He noticed. 

She only barely cut herself off from snapping at him again, feeling, no, knowing somehow that he would consider it his win if she did. Normally her colleagues wouldn’t be able to talk to the man like that, but her case was different. After all, it was him who chose her for this position specifically because she didn’t fit the norm. 

“What is it this time?” she asked, faking a smile badly, her tone dangerous. “Fire in the Artefact storage? Somebody steal the fire extinguishers? Did the archive get flooded again? Another kidnapping?!” 

The man smiled wider, clearly enjoying her annoyance. 

“No need to get drastic here, I am merely informing you there has been a few changes in workforce.” 

“What? Why?” she asked, genuinely baffled, before frowning. “Who died this time?” 

He chuckled at that once more, and it felt close to being real this time. “I wouldn’t use such strong words. No, Gertrude went… missing in action, if you will.” 

She scoffed. “I doubt that. Her last travel expenses were logged a month ago and she didn’t sign any…” then her eyes widened as she realised what he meant. “Ooh no. No, no, no, no, no. I am NOT filling out another missing persons file! Do you know how long those things are?!” 

He peaked at the pile of paperwork one her desk and she followed his gaze and everything stilled for a long moment. What came out of her throat next was low and cold. “Elias. How many people did… go missing?” 

“Oh, this is just Gertrude’s files. See, they need to be properly taken care of, since she is not officially dead we are still under contractual obligation to take care of her assets as per her instruction in her… absence.” 

She just kept staring at the pile. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“I am certain you’ll figure it out,” he said cheerfully, patting her back gently, clearly aware she wouldn’t hesitate to cut off his fingers over anything more. She strongly considered doing it anyways. 

“If I give my resignation letter in right now-“ 

“You are still obligated to finish your existing work before leaving.” He didn’t actually need to say it. They’ve had this conversation far too many times for either of them to actually have to say it anymore. 

“Elias?” she said, in the same vaguely cold tone. 

“Yes?” he almost purred, not even bothering to hide the enjoyment of her suffering as he turned to leave. 

“I hate you.” 

He just laughed. 

“I am NOT losing my party invitation over this, you hear me?!” 

“That is fair, I suppose.” He did actually pause at that. “But do be so kind and file the missing persons alert tomorrow. The police will want to have a written problem to ignore.” 

She growled as the door clicked behind him. 

One day, she thought. One day he would get that stupid smile punched off his face and she would be there, cheering. Until then she really needed to reconsider her role as a designated sober person.


	2. The HR Lady Meets The Spiral (it doesn't go the way you'd expect)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is also summary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some unreality shenanigans to brighten your day. 
> 
> (Honest to gods, every time my email says I have kudos my first reaction is just a very lost "why?" it's hilarious)

The door stared at her from the wall. She stared back at it. It wasn’t a door that she would normally use, no, partially because it’s placement two metres above ground level, but also because it was somehow spinning without actually moving; and if that wasn’t enough to cause her a headache, the sharp colour fixed that. She tapped her finger against her arm where it lay crossed against her ribcage. The door seemed to laugh at her. She bit her lip until it was bloody. This was not in her job description. 

“What are you doing?” asked a voice from behind her and she didn’t need to look to know her friend was leaning against his own desk next to hers. 

“What am I not doing?” she forced out through gritted teeth. What was she doing? She should just look away and tell Elias she talked to whatever disaster is waiting for her at the other side this time. Get it done with. It’s not like it was important to talk anyways. She should just ignore it. 

She sighed. 

“I need to go talk to what’s most likely an eldritch abomination,” she said as she pushed herself standing. “Do you happen to have painkillers?” 

He didn’t say anything as he passed her a bottle of headache medication and a flask of the best mead low-level income could offer. It was something her co-workers learned during the first few weeks working with her, whenever a task gave her a headache, it was time to evacuate, and so by the time she gulped down a good half of the flask, the office was empty save for her neighbour who gave her an encouraging thumbs up before following suit. 

There was a reason people didn’t willingly pass by the artifact storage and there was a reason nobody wanted to have anything to do with her when she was working. Both of them was the sudden inexplicable initiation of fight or flight reflex that left people who got too close with an irrational need to go hide under a blanket. 

She took a deep breath and began stacking chairs. 

It took almost ten minutes to get high enough to almost touch the doors when they suddenly weren’t there anymore – which was weird because they were never there at all – and appeared on ground level. There was a long moment in which she stared at it from her tower, blood boiling, muscles convulsing, where she seriously considered setting the place on fire and signing up at a fight club, before she took another steadying breath and did her calming exercises. There was no way this stupid door would force her to go to another anger management class. 

Instead she slid down and knocked on the abomination that the door was. When her knuckles touched the wood it felt simultaneously too sharp and slick like butter, and a faint tickling of electricity stayed under her skin even as she took a step back. 

The door creaked open ominously. 

She sighed. 

“Look,” she began as she took a step inside the corridor that should by all means not have been there. “I appreciate the thought, it’s all very flattering, but I won’t do for a good snack. What I am is on tight schedule and already behind, so please just stop being a creep and let’s talk.” 

The corridor was suddenly a different colour without actually being any colour at all. It annoyed her to no ends. 

She glanced at her notes. “It Is Not What It Is? Huh, fun name. Are you listening to me?” 

A shadow seemed to move in the mirror next to her and she was absolutely sure the wind that didn’t actually exist that ruffled her hair ever so slightly was a laugh. “Alright that does it. Either get the fuck in here and talk to me or watch as I boom a stink bomb right here right now.” 

For a while nothing happened, but when she began rummaging through her bag, taking out a grenade, the shadow from the mirror appeared at the end of the hallway. It swirled and twisted and took form with every step forwards, which was very obnoxious to watch as it didn’t actually move in any way yet somehow walked forward. 

“That’s what I thought,” she mumbled and put the bomb away as the creature reached her. “Now, who am I speaking to?” 

The shadow – although it was not a shadow, filled with swirling colours that could only be described as a direct result of hallucinatory drug overdose – shifted, and suddenly looked way more human than unidentifiable shapes that by all right shouldn’t even exist. It tilted it’s head. 

She glanced from the papers once more. “Nice hair. Now, if you could focus for a moment. I don’t actually really need a name, Elias can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m filling out any forms about this.” 

She almost paused, pretty certain that she could feel a chuckle in the air, but thought better of it. “But I do have a list of complaints from various departments regarding your… “ skimming the stack of papers vaguely, she gave up and rolled it up partially “General fuckery.” 

Another weird shiver, one that she was growing more and more certain could actually be a chuckle. 

“Would you mind terribly to stop harassing our staff?” 

Then the creature actually laughed. It sounded like a bad migraine after an especially bad hangover, when the neighbour’s children somehow got a hold of a flute. And they do not know how to play a flute. 

And then, for the first time since she came, it spoke. “You are not scared.” 

“Glad you noticed. Now if you would-“ 

“You should be scared,” it said, matter of fact-ly. It wasn’t as much a statement as it was just a general feeling of truth that they both acknowledged and maybe it didn’t actually say it but rather felt it verbally. 

Then she noticed something different. It didn’t change, no it was still the same as it was before, in every meaning of the words, but it wasn’t what it was before, even though it didn’t change at all. But she noticed it was not as much of an it as much as it was a he at that moment. 

“Oh, hi Michael,” she buzzed, turning her attention back to the list. “That explains some stuff. By which I mean I now have a much longer list of reasons to think you’re harassing staff and have to ask you to just not, but if you really have to come talk to somebody then it’s very important you actually sign the visitor book.” 

It hissed like an old kettle, though no sound actually came out. It’s hands were very sharp. 

“Can you cut that out, the big G isn't here.” It wasn’t as though she knew what actually happened, but she was the one to fill out a missing persons report when Michael didn’t come back from his last trip. Although explaining to the police that the last place he was seen was actually not a place and didn’t exist in the first place was a bit tricky. 

The air asked a question that didn’t sound as much as it kind of stung. 

“Elias said she’s missing in action so my bet is her body is dismembered under his office floor-boards.” She paused then, thinking. “Though most people placed their money on eaten by moths, for some reason.” 

Michael – and she knew it was Michael just as much as she knew it wasn’t – scoffed, the sound almost human. 

“I didn’t know we had- of fucking course we have tunnels.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Ten pounds then, okay? And if you win I will personally strangle you.” 

“How?” he asked, genuinely curious. Probably. Maybe. 

“That’s up for interpretation,” she grinned. “Now back to business. I really need you to sign in when you come visit somebody. It’s the protocol.” 

He shrugged, but what he actually did was disagree strongly. 

“I do not give a rat’s ass about what you think, stop acting like a spoiled brat.” 

A low murmur ran through the walls. She looked around and shuddered as the vibration rang through her body just enough to make it uncomfortable. She shot Michael a bemused frown. “Case in a point.” 

He made a movement, if it could be called that, and the shadows around them – since when have there been shadows? – shifted in a way that made her think of something old, vicious, and hungry. She turned back just in time to watch Michael attempt to slash her with whatever the things he had instead of fingers were and freeze in his spot. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” 

Michael groaned and clutched his… well, it might have been belly but it somehow felt like his head also. She gave up trying to figure out his anatomy. 

“You.” The word sounded like an insult through the entire place, and she knew that it would be heard reverberating no matter which hallway she would listen in. She felt the meaning of it shimmer behind her eyes, making her head tingle with electricity that was definitely not meant to be there. She was confusing an already confusing thing, she felt, and it was making it starve. 

The next vibration was a resounding Get Out message, that much was clear. 

“Not until you stop being a bitch to my staff.” Not her staff, she thought, a ping of guilt at the lie, but definitely her people. “You follow protocol and I leave.” 

Michael eyed her with what she assumed might have been a face composed of at least three hundred angers and furies all meshed up and mangled together, and the creature gave a hissing sound as it stared at her hand. It did shake it, though. With all the intention of making her suffer for the insult, but still. 

“Cool.” She smiled like the mad-woman that she was and pulled out something from her pocket, throwing it at the it. “Here’s the visitor badge. Now get me the fuck out of here.” 

Then she turned to walk away and immediately regretted the decision as a door opened directly under her and she began falling. 

And then she didn’t stop falling. 

Until she crashed straight onto the table in break room, crushing it under her. After groaning and trying to catch her breath for a long, long moment, that might actually have been minutes, she decided she was uninjured enough to scream a loud, angry “FUCK YOU” back at the yellow trap-door still ten metres above her. It was a little weird since the room only had four meters in height. 

A very long, disfigured hand that, now that she saw it from her own world-view, wasn’t a hand at all, but also wasn’t not a hand, slowly reached out of the hole, and promptly flipped her off. 

She laughed, still collapsed on whatever remained of the table, as the door slammed shut and disappeared. Her co-workers finally began to wake up from their frozen stupor and decided that, since she clearly wasn’t as dead as she perhaps should have been, they might as well help her get up. 

Their moods certainly weren’t improved by her almost deranged laughing. 

Her desk neighbour stayed with her after work and helped as she vomited her guts out at the toilets. He would be awarded with knighthood in the form of upgrading to her best friend a few hours into that. And was allowed to help her with her call to Elias. 

“Hello?” came the sound of a prick’s voice. 

“I’m taking a paid leave,” she said, matter of fact-ly, “the institute will pay for my treatment at the hospital as I’m pretty sure at least two of my ribs are broken, if there’s any lasting damage I expect full compensation. And I want a raise, a significant one.” 

There was a moment of silence. “Anything else?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed out, and had to take a break to dry-heave more of what wasn’t left in her stomach anymore. “Go fuck yourself.” 

“And a good day to you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is slowly turning into me being wildly self-satisfactory where flipping off Elias is concerned.


	3. How Many Eyes Does It Take To Cause A Migraine? (Not enough I'd say)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eye motif and shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet (and with Elias bullying, as we all love)

Every day was normal in a sense when you were working at the Magnus Institute. The fact that their normal was just a tad bit over the line for those who didn’t work there didn’t mean it wasn’t the norm. So when the workers of HR walked into the office to find their co-worker dressed head to toe in eyes, they didn’t even blink. 

When she took a break from whatever files the head office had her filling out to coo at her ring – featuring a giant, heavy, realistic eye – like one would at a cat, but sentences rather more violent than one would at a cat, but most often a variation of “who’s a little piece of shit bastard? Who’s a stinky bitch boy? You are, yesh you are!” …they didn’t think twice. When she walked up to the middle of the breakroom and started spinning as fast as she could, her skirt – with an absurd amount of embroidered eyes that felt a little too real despite their almost cartoonish proportions – and chuckling when she inevitably fell to the ground, answering their questions of whether she was alright with “Better than Elias should be right about now…” they pretty much just stopped paying attention to her altogether. 

But when her friend happened to open the door of the shared washing room and saw her twirling in front of the mirror, flipping off the multitude of eye-themed necklaces in her reflection, he couldn’t resist. 

“Okay, what are you doing?” 

She laughed and twirled towards him. The outfit gleamed in all its unbelievably incoherent and chaotic glory. 

“I have recently come to the information that out dear boss is spying on us and decided to give him a headache.” 

He… didn’t question that. Any of it. She wouldn’t explain anyways, so it was only on his good faith that he decided he had nothing better to do anyways. “Alright. Want help?” 

The dark chuckle she made then should have warned him, but only made him grin as she grabbed her bag from under the sink. “Are you up for some vandalism?” 

Seven hours, eleven sharpies, a hilarious amount of glue, and around twenty boxes of googly eyes later they sat down in a nearby café with matching expressions of pride at a job well done. She gave up some of her objectively unnerving jewellery in favour of making him look just as absurd, making people around them shy as far away from the strange couple as possible. It was all in all a wonderful evening. 

Made, unknown to them, even better by a certain man, sat in the main office of the Institute, finally checking in on his “security system” now that the walking headache of a woman was gone, and getting very, very confused by the sheer amount of angles from which he could suddenly see the underside of chairs, sinks, and disturbing view of toilets, most of which had some manner of insults written over his entire view, instead of his usual network. 

He didn’t even suspect the vulgar graffiti on his door, partially obscured by the many corridor-facing googly eyes, until he came back on Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually 01.01.2021 here and we have a saying, As for New Years is for all year  
> So like, let's pray for productivity! (*wheeze*)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a small preview of the dynamic, a short and sweet intro chapter.


End file.
